Page 3 of Pity Play

I need to know. “Does your team hate your guts?”

“Maybe. But who cares? We’re number three in the state. I’m clearly doing something right.”

I interrupt what I’m guessing is about to turn into a monumental bragging session. “When will Luke be here?”

“Tomorrow morning around ten.”

My heartbeat accelerates at the thought of everything I need to do to prepare. “Way to give me notice,” I sarcastically drawl.

“I couldn’t very well tell you sooner. It’s not like Mr. Phillips knew he was going to fall off his roof.”

He’s got a point there. “Fine, but I can’t promise to have everything ready in time.”

“What is there to do? Just throw some clean sheets at him and point him in the direction of a spare bedroom.”

“Yeah, cause that’s the way to run a successful B & B.” You’d think my brother was raised by wolves.

“Oh, and I should tell you that Luke just broke up with his girlfriend, so be extra sweet to him. He’s pretty low.”

While I should be sympathetic that my childhood crush just went through a breakup, I can’t help the slow smile that starts to form on my face. Luke Phillips is coming home. Not only that, but he’s single, and he’s staying atmyhouse. I feel like I just picked the winning Powerball numbers—with the kicker.

When I was little, my mom used to watch that old TV show,Gilmore Girls. She was always carrying on about how Lorelai and Luke were perfect for each other if only they’d open their eyes and see it. Of course, that show had nothing to do with why I used to write Lorelai + Luke in the middle of a heart on all my notebooks. The reason for that is on his way home to Elk Lake, and I can hardly wait to see him again.

CHAPTER TWO

LUKE

I love owning my own restaurant, but no one ever tells you that most of the work isn’t creating fabulous culinary feasts, which is the reason I became a chef. It’s bookkeeping. My brain starts to fog over as I shuffle through a stack of receipts. I don’t look up until I hear the voice of my general manager, Eve. “Leave those. I’ll have Charlie tally everything up when she does payroll on Thursday.”

I indicate the chair across from my desk for her to sit down. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but it could be a month or longer.”

“Don’t worry about us. We’re going to be fine. Just keep us posted on your dad. Maybe send some pictures of your family restaurant so we can see how far you’ve come.”

As Eve crosses one long leg over the other, a flash of our two poorly-fated dates pops into my mind. All we could talk about was work, and you know what they say about all work and no play. Toward the end of our second outing, Eve confessed that she didn’t think we were meant to be more than friends and great businesspartners. I agreed with her, but I still thought it was too bad we didn’t click romantically. It’s hard to find time to date like a normal person when you run one of the best and busiest restaurants in Chicago. As such, it’s been years since I’ve so much as had a steady girlfriend.

“I appreciate everything you do around here, Eve. Capon would be nothing without you.” That’s not false praise, either. Restaurants are only as good as the front of the house. It’s well known that diners come to your establishment for the food, but they return for the hospitality. Eve is nothing if not extraordinarily hospitable.

“I’ve got a call out to the culinary school to bring in some temporary help while you’re away. Extra hands doing the grunt work will give the line cooks a chance to take on more responsibility. And you know how cooks are. Always looking for opportunities to enhance their station.”

Nodding my head, I tell her, “That’s perfect. I don’t want to hire someone full time if we won’t need them for long.”

Eve smiles endearingly while swiping a lock of her long blonde hair behind her ear. “The school loves to brag about being able to place their students in restaurants like ours, so it’s a win-win.”

“Just make sure the kitchen keeps a close eye on them. We don’t need any newbies cutting off their fingers while peeling potatoes.” I reference the first student the school sent. He cut off the tip of his finger because he was more focused on flirting with my pastry chef than on chopping onions.

Eve laughs before saying, “I’m sorry about the reason you’re going home, but I think the change of scenery will be good for you.”

My GM is always hounding me to take more time off, but there’s a reason executive chefs aren’t known for how many vacations they take. We have too many demands on our time to worry about our own pleasures. “I suppose it’ll be something of a break, flipping burgers instead of grilling filets,” I grumble.

Ignoring my surly tone, she decides, “It’ll be nice for you to be home. How long has it been, anyway?”

Eve knows I haven’t been back to Elk Lake in the two years since Capon opened. I don’t really want to divulge that it’s been longer than that, so I simply tell her, “It’s been a while.”

“You know that’s pitiful, don’t you?”

I usually like Eve’s straightforwardness, but that’s not currently the case. “Look, I work hard and when I get a day off the last thing I want to do is go home and listen to my dad rail at me for not going into business with him.”

“What about the rest of your family?” she demands.

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